ikiaikainen

[ikiaikainen]

Changeling

Winter has always known there was something strange about him - and not just his name. When a new student arrives with looks similar to him, he is instantly drawn to the strange new boy. But where this encounter leads is not something Winter had expected, for better or worse. (2017)

Featured on my oneshot collection Something Strange on Tapas.

Winter had always known there was something wrong with him - something more than just his peculiar nature name, of course. It wasn't that he didn't feel like "not fitting in" with others of his age: he did, he had friends, and in general he had a good, healthy social life for a 15-year-old boy. Rather, it was the way he looked that caused not only curious looks from other people, but also confusion in Winter himself whenever gazing at himself from the mirror: he had strong, sharp teeth (the dentists had been forced to polish them by Winter's parents, but Winter himself had refused them to be completely flattened; at that age he had thought his fangs were cool), his nails always kept growing in odd ways and he constantly had to cut them, and the texture of his hair was strange at best, feeling like animal fur rather than human hair.

What was even stranger, however, was the hair growing on his lower back, and what undoubtedly looked like a scar on his lower back.

Winter knew it was normal in puberty to notice hair growing in strange and often unexpected places the sex education classes didn't cover, but he had had this strange, white hair there as long as he could remember, and the same applied to the small scar.

Winter had often asked his parents about these and other strange things:

"Why are my teeth like that? Why do I have to flatten them?"

"Why is there fur growing on my lower back?", a question immediately met with an agitated response of "It's not fur, it's hair; your great uncle was the same."

He'd further ask about the odd shape of his ears, and the the scar on his lower back; about the nails and the way his hair felt, and the weird, small bumps on his head.

The answers always varied.

The strange, white hair was said to be an unspecified genetic disorder that ran in the family, but all the relatives with the condition were long gone by now. Likewise, the scar on his lower back was initially claimed to be a scar from Winter falling badly as a child. The bumps on his head were somehow related to his skull's structure, and the sharp tips of his ears were simply a remain from the more primal past of humans - it happened sometimes, with kids being born this way due to how their normally inactive genes were somehow activated in birth.

As younger, Winter would always play with the idea he was some sort of monster child who had then gone through surgeries to look more human.

However, such thoughts were quickly buried until logic and reason when he matured, and for a good while Winter had basically forgotten his odditions. Things changed when his puberty started: with the new changes his hormones brought with them, the strangeness of his body became much more apparent.

"Maybe you're intersex?" one of his school friends had suggested: Winter's strange medical past and secretive parents seemed to align with what he had read regarding the topic.

"No, no, that's not it," Winter had replied. "It's not like that; it's definitely different. I have read about it and I can't find myself relating to most of the things the books mention, let alone what people say on forums."

Things came to change, however, when a new boy arrived to the school.

He was a year older than Winter was, but although they weren't in the same class, it was easy to notice the peculiarity of the new student: he was tall, his ears shaped so similarly to Winter's it was almost uncanny, and when he laughed a row of almost predatory teeth could be shown.

All this interested Winter greatly, and a week later, during one lunch break, he sat opposite of the young man.

"Hi," he said as he placed the food tray in front of of the new guy's own. "Is this place free?"

"Uh, yeah," the other mumbled, somewhat awkwardly: he hadn't expected Winter specifically to come here and was a little confused.

"You're the new student, right? What's your name?"

"It's, um," the boy started somewhat awkwardly and paused, as if to think very hard. "It's Ethan. I'm Ethan. And you are...?"

"Winter," he replied and smiled. "I know, it's a weird name: my parents had strange tastes."

"I think it's cool," Ethan answered. "It's kind of otherworldly somehow, I like it."

Not wanting to teeter around the issue any further, Winter decided to risk it all and asked as casually as it was just possible for him in the situation:

"Speaking of otherworldly... I couldn't help but notice your teeth. What's up with them?"

Like out of instinct, Ethan covered his mouth with his hands and looked at Winter with an alarmed expression.

"No, don't worry, I'm not making fun of you!" Winter hurried to explain. "It's just that... Well, look," he then said and opened his mouth, moving his lips a little with his fingers to show his teeth in their full, animal-like glory.

"You have them too?" Ethan asked, eyes wide and blinking faster than what was normal - he seemed to be very particularly abashed by the sight. "Are you perhaps... " Ethan started carefully but then shook his head. "No, nevermind."

"Your ears, too," Winter continued, now intrigued by the reaction he had gotten out of Ethan. "They're kind of sharp, aren't they?"

"Well, yeah..." the other admitted.

"What about your nails?"

"What about my nails?"

Winter showed his hand and the sharp nails he hadn't cut off in order to show them to Ethan. "Do you also have nails like mine? They grow really fast, I usually cut them and file the tips of them to make them less sharp, but I couldn't be bothered lately. So many school things to focus on - you know, that sort of stuff."

Ethan hesitated for a moment, looking at Winter's fingernails and then his own.

"I cut and file them too," he finally said with a low, careful tone. "But they look almost like yours, although they don't grow all that fast, thankfully."

Winter was overjoyed upon finding someone who shared these strange traits with him, and as the curiosity got the better of him, he continued asking: "Do you have any other strange things?"

"Strange things?" Ethan raised his eyebrows.

"Like, well, um... Surgery scars, or something like that? Especially around lower back?"

Ethan was silent, looking at Winter with a strange expression the other boy couldn't quite read or understand. Had he spoken too much? Was Ethan weirded out? Gods, he shouldn't have spoken this much after all.

"Is there... something strange with your lower back?" the new student finally asked upon being silent for so long. "Like, anything?"

"Do you promise not to laugh?" Winter asked solemnly. "Or be weirded out?"

"I promise," Ethan said and raised his hand to make a gesture of a vow. "I don't think I have any right to make any comments about the bodies of other people anyway, no matter how strange."

"Good. See, I have a surgery scar there, but also this... strange white something, like fur? I don't really understand it, mum and dad just claim it's some sort of rare condition, but that's basically it - I can't find any information even online."

Ethan looked extremely thoughtful as he listened to this. Then, out of blue, he asked something Winter had not anticipated.

"Were you adopted? Are you the biological child of your parents?"

"What kind of question is that?" Winter snapped. "Of course I am! I have almost the same hair colour as my father too!"

"Hmm... If you say so," the boy replied and took a bite of his food he had momentarily forgotten to focus on. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Why?"

"I just... wanted to, that's all."

He moved the fork around his salad absentmindedly.

"Hey Winter."

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in ghosts? Things like that?"

Winter shrugged. "Can't say I do."

"I see..."

"I mean it's not like I can't deny them either, but since I have never seen with my own eyes... I'm not that inclined to believe."

"What would you do if you did... see a ghost or something along those lines?"

The boy laughed nervously. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer," Ethan replied but looked away from Winter as he said this.

"I guess I would. I mean, if I can have a condition like this even though the rest of the world doesn't seem to even know it exist, then I guess I could understand a ghost or a demon too - it'd be strange, but not too strange, you know?"

"Gotcha."

Ethan stood up from the table, still half finished food on his plate.

"You finished?" Winter asked, not having even touched his food yet.

"Yeah. But Winter..." Ethan murmured, and once more lowered his voice. "If you want to talk more about that condition thing whatever... Meet me after school at the school gym."

Winter nodded obediently, and fast forward 3 more hours, he was standing inside the empty school gym. It was part of the main building so it was locked only when the school was also closed, and so getting inside was absolutely no trouble for him. Even better, it was also never supervised, so sneaking in was easy, and he had no fear whatsoever about getting caught by a teacher.

He walked around, the dimly lit room so dark he could barely see: the windows of the gym had been blocked with large, black curtains, and only the small holes time had bitten into them gave him any light to see around.

And then he heard Ethan's voice.

"Here, Winter! Let's go to the changing rooms, it's better there."

His voice was silent and raspy, and Winter felt something akin to anxiety rise from within him: just what was Ethan planning to do? Was he really going to talk more about this condition of what they both seemed to have? Or was he going to punch him and steal his money? Or assault him? Was that it?

Winter hit his cheeks with both of his hands to cast off such thoughts, and Ethan heard the slapping sound.

"Winter, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Nothing, nothing!" Winter replied and stopped hitting himself.

"You don't need to be nervous," Ethan spoke as he stepped inside the back of the gym hall, into the small stairway leading into the changing rooms. "I'm not going to murder you or anything. This is just the best place to talk without anyone interfering. And if someone does come, we are sure to hear it well in advance."

"You're absolutely right," the other nodded. "I would never consider you murdering me. No way."

They were now inside the changing room, and once Winter had closed the door behind him (making sure it was not locked, just in case), Ethan switched on the lights.

"Alright, look," he started, voice shaking a bit. "What I'm about to tell and show you is very, how do you say it... personal. So whatever you say or do, don't make a ruckus, alright? I'm sure you understand."

Nervous but perfectly understanding the concern of Ethan, Winter nodded. However, as soon as the other boy started pulling his pants down, Winter yelped loudly.

"H-hold on!" he cried. "W-w-what do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm not going to take all my pants off!" Ethan replied, flustered as he opened his belt. When his pants fell down on the floor with the belt clicking against it, Winter saw something so strange none of his earlier scenarios of what could happen couldn't even compare to the sight.

Sticking out from his back was, undoubtedly, a thin, blond tail. It was not particularly long but one couldn't have called it short either, and it resembled a lion's tail with a tuft on the top of it, except it was much thinner. Ethan then turned around to reveal his back and lo and behold: blond fur was growing just around the same place as where Winter had it.

"What's... the meaning of this...?" Winter finally let out after moments of staring. "Ethan, you're not pulling my leg, aren't you? This is not a prank?"

"It's not a prank," the boy replied and his tail twitched a little. However, probably feeling self conscious or maybe getting cold, he soon put his pants back on and hid the tail inside.

"What... are you?" the other boy finally asked, still staring at where Ethan's tail had previously been in.

"A changeling, I think."

"A what?"

"Did your parents never read you fairy tales as a child?" Ethan asked.

"Not really..." Winter mumbled. "So please, explain me..."

"Changeling is someone who has been traded to another child," the young man explained in a very a matter-of-fact way. "A troll mother takes her own baby and trades it to a human baby, so the troll raises a human, and the humans raise a troll. That's how it usually goes in stories. Sometimes it's the fairy folk too, or elves."

"So are you a troll?"

Ethan laughed and shook his head. "No, I'm a human."

"But humans don't...." Winter started, but decided not to say anything after all - he couldn't find the right words.

"I was taken from my human parents as a child by a demon mother. It's said that when you spend long enough with them, your body starts to change too to resemble them more. But this is all I can do - I don't have horns or anything similar."

"Then..." Winter started slowly, looking at his shaking hand he had rose over his face. "Then that means... I must be a changeling too?"

"If you grew with humans, it means you must be a demon child, unlike me, who is a human."

Winter put his hand over his mouth and stared at the floor so hard he could have made a hole into it through the sheer intensity of his pierce.

Of course, that'd make sense. It would explain the surgeries, the two lumps on his head that seemed to have grown in the recent years; the secretiveness of his parents and the fact that aside from the similar hair colour, Winter didn't have much else in common with his family or relatives. Granted, there were some similarities, but didn't most people have some? If you took a stranger from the street that vaguely resembled you and told someone you're relatives, surely they would find at least one similarity.

"It must be a lot to take at once," Ethan's spoke and his voice pulled Winter out of his haze. "But since you seemed to be completely left into the dark with this, I thought it'd be the right thing to tell you."

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and then looked away.

"I thought there was a possibility that... maybe we were swapped or something, but then I remembered it would have required us to be the same age. And there is a year difference between us, right?"

"Y-yeah... I'm pretty sure I'm exactly the age my parents claim me to me; there were no secrets, hush-hushes or murmurs regarding that topic."

"So... What are you going to do now?"

Winter looked at Ethan.

"I don't know," he then replied and looked away from the changeling. "This is kind of a lot to take. When I came here... I, uh, absolutely didn't expect this to happen."

"Sorry about that," the blond apologized.

"It's fine, now I understand everything that has been puzzling me since I was a kid. But tell me, Ethan, what are you doing here if you were raised by demons?"

"I learned I'm a human only some time ago myself," Ethan admitted with an awkward laughter. "And so I wanted to know what kind of life humans really lead so I came here. Some of my demon friends came too, although they're in different schools - this one refused to take more in due to lack of space and resources."

He laughed again, but this time his cheeks reddened slightly as he continued: "It's not easy being a human, you know? I keep saying and doing weird things all the time; we look similar, but there are a lot of differences between how we and humans behave."

"Like?"

"Like, the demons I grew up with were really playful, in the same way cats and dogs are regardless of their age. Humans aren't like that, people my age are supposed to be much more collected."

"I'm not playful," Winter commented. "Even though it seems I'm a demon."

"It's not entirely biological - it's in the culture too. You have been raised to control your feelings and stuff, haven't you?"

"... you're correct."

"Then... do you prefer to live as a human, or do you want to find your biological parents and live with the demons?" the boy suddenly asked.

"I-I must think about it," Winter breathed. "It's all very sudden, and I'm perfectly accustomed to this kind of life, so I doubt I'd like to change the pace now. But... "

He took a short break and looked at Ethan before speaking: "But I'd like to meet my other parents, one day. Not now, maybe not soon, but some time... And I want to talk to my parents about this too and about them keeping it a secret."

"Sounds like a plan. But say, have your horns grown out yet?"

"No, just two bumps on the head. I was always told it's just my skull being weird."

"Hm, then you definitely want to get something done with them - they should grow out anytime soon. Usually even children have them but maybe the human influence has made you into a late bloomer..."

"O-oh great," Winter stuttered and instinctively touched the two bumps on his head, imagining them bursting out one day to reveal horns. "Um, does it hurt?"

"It might sting at first, from what I have heard - I never got any horns."

"O-okay..."

The two stood there in silence then, looking awkwardly at each other, then the floor and then each other again. Only Ethan's suggestion to leave finally broke the silence, and they both agreed their business here was done.

They sneaked out, made sure to shut off the lights and went outside through the backdoor, as the front door was probably already locked, and the back exit directly led them outside.

"If you want to, like, call or anything or just hang out, just tell me. I can give my number," Ethan spoke once they were outdoors.

"That'd be nice," Winter replied and took out his phone, and Ethan then proceeded to give his phone number.

"Do you like video games?" he then asked, and Winter nodded: "I'm not very good, but yeah, I do."

"Want to hang out in the arcade tomorrow? I can introduce you to the other demons as well - they're all really chill."

Winter hesitated, but only for a moment, and eventually nodded: "I'd love that."

"Great, it's a deal then. Tomorrow, after school, see you there!"

"See you!"

And the two parted their ways. Only then the entire situation where Winter now was in washed over him, and he had to take a hold of the nearby building's wall to keep his balance.

"I'm... a demon?" he thought to himself. "Those surgeries, those secrets, all those were to pretend I'm a human?"

Frankly, Winter didn't mind the fact his tail had obviously been removed as he wasn't very keen on the idea of keeping such a thing a secret. Nevertheless, the fact his parents had never told him the truth upset him beyond words: telling the truth would have saved him from so much suffering and agonizing over a body he certainly liked, but couldn't quite understand.

Once back at home, he would talk about all this. He'd make his parents tell the whole story so that Winter could understand the circumstances of his birth better.

And, the next day, he would meet with Ethan again and talk to demons... Those he was also one of, despite the fact the idea felt absurd at best.

"But Ethan is there," Winter told himself as he now kept walking back home on the silent evening road. "He seems like a good guy, he explains things calmly and so that I understand them too, and he seemed to be happy to be able to meet with me again."

He stopped and took a deep breath.

"What more, he wanted me to understand my circumstances, despite not knowing me at all. He put himself at risk by revealing himself to me, a stranger, just so he could reassure me and show I'm not alone."

Winter smiled, cheeks burning a little.

"I think he is a good guy, truly."

[ikiaikainen]

A Boy from the Woods

On the last day of the dark and gloomy October, Ada brought something home from the woods - but it wasn't an animal cub this time. (2017)

Featured on my oneshot collection Something Strange on Tapas.

On the last day of the dark and gloomy October, Ada brought something home from the woods.

She had this strange habit of bringing all sort of things back home after her forest adventures: sticks, stones, tadpoles, mushrooms, lost cats and dogs, and sometimes even wild animal babies. Sticks and stones were hardly a problem, but time after time they would have to tell their daughter to not bring home animals - especially wild animal babies, as this would only make it harder for their parents to find them later on.

But Ada hardly listened, and countless of times her parents would have to make her turn back on her tracks and return the animals to forest before coming inside for a dinner.

This time, however, it wasn’t an animal that Ada brought home.

It was a boy.

He was small, light build and miserable looking with torn and tattered clothes, dirty face and dark circles under his eyes, making him appear younger than Ada, being 14 herself.

“Who is this?” her parents asked as they watched the soaked, dirty boy in front of their porch; he wasn’t even wearing shoes, bare feet muddy and full of small scratches.

“I don’t know,” Ada replied. “I found him from the forest, hiding under a large tree trunk.”

“What is your name, son?” father asked, but the boy didn’t answer. Instead he would look at the floor and sniffle a little, shivering in cold. Then, finally, after an awkward silence accompanied only by the sound of the falling rain, he whispered: “My name is Rose.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were a girl,” Ada’s mother apologized, but the boy shook his head a little, his tangled up, curly hair going from one side to another and sending water droplets on the porch.

“No, I’m a boy. Rose is the name of a flower; my parents simply named me after it,” he explained with a quiet voice. “Mother was a gardener.”

“Then, where are your parents now?”

“Gone,” the boy answered.

Rose was then taken inside where he was offered a warm bath and a meal to shake off the cold and stiffness. The boy didn’t talk much, but after cleaning himself he looked like a different person: fair faced and light in complexion. Ada and her parents couldn’t help but wonder if the boy was, in fact, a runaway noble boy - there was no way a commoner would have such a light and smooth skin that had clearly been taken care of.

When he was asked about his other relatives, Rose claimed he had none: the recent flu epidemic in the nearby city had robbed the lives of all of his relatives, leaving the poor boy to fend for himself - and it didn’t seem to work, given how unruly and starved he had looked upon arriving, and how unsuited his clothes were for travel.

With no living relatives and no place to go, Rose remained with the family for a while: Ada was happy to have a playmate, and Rose himself looked so weak and pitiful there was no way they could send the boy away into the wilderness again. And so, with the mutual agreement from the parents who had always wanted a second child, it was decided that Rose would join the family.

Oddly enough, when they went to the local church, no records of the boy could be found from anywhere. It was assumed Rose was an illegitimate child, born outside of marriage and thus not recorded by the church. It was certainly a setback, but only a minor one: after all, as nobody seemed to recognize the new child in the village, the family figured the boy’s past as someone’s love child was no real concern to them or their reputation.

And so Rose became an officially adopted son to the family.

He got adjusted to his new style of life fast: Ada liked him and enjoyed playing with him outside, delighted to finally have companion on her forest adventures, and their parents were more than just a little infatuated with this well behaving, sweet boy. He didn’t have problems at school, hardly ever fought with anyone, never argued with his parents and all in all was a child so well mannered that other villagers started to get suspicious of him.

“He must be a stolen child,” they would whisper to each other, not caring whether the family would hear this or not. “Such a sweet, well-behaving and beautiful boy can in no way be just a mere orphan; I don’t buy it.”

What was even stranger than Rose’s good manners and kind nature, however, was the fact that people had started falling ill after the boy arrived: many would faint in strange and unexpected places, odd wounds found on their skin when later examined on. Some would suffer from anemia long afterwards, as if part of their life force had been sucked out. While there were no casualties recorded related to the incidents, people started getting uneasy and scared: who would be the next to wake up with unsettling wounds on their skin?

It didn’t take long until the villagers started making a connection between Rose’s appearance and the unusual cases of fatigue and anemia.

“It must be a vampire,” Rose once heard one of the boys of his class talk before the teacher had arrived.

“My dad is a doctor and he said it’s because we haven’t had a good harvest this year: people don’t get enough food, and so they fall ill. That’s why they become forgetful,” another replied in an arrogant, matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh yeah? Then how about those bite marks? How do you explain that?”

The previously cocky boy went silent, but a third boy turned over to them:

“My dad says they’re animal bites, snakes and suchs. They take a bite when they see an easy prey.”

A girl turned over to the boys now, and with an angry voice she stated: “My mum is a hunter and she has seen the bodies, and those sure as hell aren’t animal bite marks! They belong to a human - a human child!”

As if to add more fuel to the fire, the girl continued: “And just who arrived here just before this whole thing started?

They all fell silent, and when one of the boys noticed Rose was standing there and listening to them, they all turned around with such a hurry one of them fell over with his chair.

Back at home, Rose walked over to his adopted mother, who was sitting on the couch and reading.

“Mum,” he asked quietly, and the woman lifted her gaze from the book.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“Do you think I’m a vampire?”

She looked at the boy with a startled expression: she had wished to keep Rose completely out of this and not to let the poor boy know of just what kind of terrible, truly awful accusations people were throwing around about him.

“Of course not,” she finally replied and her expression softened. She leaned closer to Rose and extended her arms, lifting up the light boy on her lap. She hugged him gently, and the boy responded to this by leaning closer to the woman’s warm chest, taking a hold of her shirt and clutching it in his small hand.

“Don’t worry about the things people talk out there,” she then spoke to Rose and rubbed his back with gentle movements. His body was cold, just like it always was, but this small, cold frame belong to her son, and she would protect that boy with all she had - a vampire or not.

“Mum, I’m scared…” Rose whispered quietly. “What if they hurt me? What if they come to hurt you?”

“I won’t let them,” the woman replied sternly, and momentarily stopped rubbing the boy’s back. “I absolutely won’t. They have no right to, and even if they somehow had, I would stop them.”

“Even if I were a vampire?” the boy asked, sniffling sadly.

With much softer voice, she patted the boy’s fluffy hair and spoke: “Vampire or not, you’re my son. I’d do anything to protect you, and if it was blood you needed, I would get it to you.”

Rose didn’t say anything, just softly cried against his mother’s chest, warm tears staining the white shirt.

But despite her words of reassuring comfort, the hatred and fear of the villagers only grew stronger.

It had been a year and a half since Rose had become part of the household, but the strange illness and wounds had not gone anywhere. In fact, people who had already been bitten would experience the same again: waking up in a strange place with small bite marks and scratch wounds on their body. Sometimes the wounds would even be tended and patched up, and while this was a sweet and thoughtful gesture, it also made it clear for everyone the perpetrator had to be a human - or rather, a demonic creature pretending to be a human.

“Can you turn me into a vampire?” one of Rose’s classmates, a boy around his own height with brown hair and charming freckles, asked while they were walking home from school.

“I’m not a vampire,” Rose answered and attempted to ignore the boy, clutching his backpack while trying to walk faster, but the other boy followed.

“Come on, everyone knows you’re a vampire,” the child insisted. “The only reason nothing has been done to you is because there is still not enough proof yet.”

“Hey!” a voice called out from somewhere, and Ada appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was older now, much taller than she had been last year, and had an intimidating exterior of a girl who was physically strong, and well aware of it herself.

“Leave my brother alone,” she continued speaking to the boy with a warning tone. “And he is not a vampire.”

“He has sharp teeth!” the boy insisted.

“So do I,” Ada said and opened her mouth, revealing sharp fangs. “There is nothing weird about that; some people just naturally have sharper and bigger fangs! We’re not that different from wolves and other beasts, you know?”

Before the boy got to say anything else, Ada stopped him: “Besides, see that sun?” she pointed at the sky where the sun was shining happily. “If Rose was a vampire, how do you explain him walking under it?”

“W-well, I,” the kid muttered, but upon realizing there was nothing he could use to argue against Ada’s words, he turned over and dashed off.

“Honestly…” Ada sighed. “Won’t these people ever leave you alone?”

“It’s fine,” Rose whispered, looking at the ground beneath his feet.

“It’s not fine!” the girl insisted.

“What would you do if I were a vampire?”

Ada looked at her younger brother and laughed.

“If that was the case, I’d gladly let you drink my blood! It’s not like anyone has died before, no? And nobody has been turned into a vampire either as far as I know, so it should be fine!”

“You’re a really good sister,” Rose smiled softly, although with a somewhat sad expression. “I hope you know that.”

“Anything to my little brother!” she said and patted Rose on the back so forcefully the boy almost fell down.

But as the winter finally arrived, things changed.

One of the male servants of a rich household suddenly started claiming he was attacked when he was working at the stables, further claiming that one of the horses had been bitten and died as a result. He claimed it was a vampire, and that it had to be caught so that whoever was hiding it would pay for the horse, and that the vampire itself would be killed accordingly.

Of course, there was no truth in his words: instead, the servant had accidentally fed the horse hay with a piece of metal in it. The horse had soon perished after its internal organs had been damaged by the metal it couldn’t digest, but there was no way he was going to admit having done such a grave mistake. Instead the man had carved two marks onto the horse’s neck, and with some tools made makeshift bite marks on his own skin as well - a painful but a cheap price for not becoming jobless and homeless during the winter. Now he was all ready to shift the blame on someone else, and with everyone suspecting Rose and his family, it was easy to convince the other villagers to join him to blame Rose for it.

And on that day, when the villagers came marching behind the doors of Rose’s home, the boy vanished.

Upon examining his bed they would find blood on the sheets, as well as torn and tattered clothes; a clear indication that a fight had taken place inside the boy’s room.

“He was taken by the vampire!” the mother cried out in agony, clutching the bloodied, small clothes against her chest while crying so sadly that even the other people found their eyes watering. Everything about the scene that unfolded before them, the weeping mother and comforted by his husband, was so heartbreaking and pitiful most of them started to believe Rose had, in fact, not been the vampire. Perhaps he had been in cahoots with it, but the boy was innocent, possibly even taken advantage of by the vampire - and now had to pay with his life.

However, Ada knew better. Adjusting the collar over her bitten, sore neck, she knew Rose had been forced to escape by the wrath of the villagers.

And in order to do so, Ada had given him a parting gift so that he would be able to stage the scene and have enough power to escape. She had always suspected, she was his sister after all, and eventually found out Rose’s secret, but never mentioned it to the boy before this: she knew Rose would never hurt anyone intentionally, and that drinking blood was a necessity for him rather than a way to cause harm upon others on purpose.

She leaned over her crying mother to comfort her, spoke soft words of comfort to to her; of how sad Rose would be if he saw his mother crying like this. Eventually the family was left alone by the villagers who had expected a bloodbath, but only witnessed a tragedy.

With Rose gone, peace finally returned to the village. But the small boy was dearly missed by many, and even those who had never liked him in the first place found that something was missing now with the boy gone.

[ikiaikainen]

Marching through Denmark

Prince Fortinbras of Norway is on his way to invade Poland, but first he must get the permission of King Claudius (2017). 

“What took you so long?” Fortinbras asked once the captain, a man with a mighty beard and sturdy build, returned back to the marching soldiers

“I met the Prince of Denmark, my lord,” the captain responded.

“Ah, Prince Hamlet? How was he?” Fortinbras smiled with polite enthusiasm, and then added: “And what was he doing out there?”

Although Fortinbras had never personally met him, the word of the Danish prince had carried all the way to the cold Norway. An intelligent prince, like a scholar, he had heard; the polar opposite of Fortinbras, who in turn fancied himself as a soldier rather than a man of high intellect.

But the land of Denmark considered their prince as an adept swordsman despite his more academia-oriented interests, and Fortinbras couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to challenge the prince to a friendly competition: to see if Hamlet was as good as they said, and to see if Fortinbras’ own skills were as sharp and his reactions as fast as he thought they were.

“He seemed to have seen better days,” the captain finally admitted with a frown on his face, dragging Fortinbras back to the present.

“How’s so?”

“The prince looked like he hadn’t been sleeping in a while,” the man then explained solemnly, “and he could do naught to the dark circles around his eyes. The two men in his company seemed nervous and uneasy as well.”

“Hm, how curious,” Fortinbras noted. “It’s true he only recently lost his father, the late King Hamlet, but something seems a little odd, don’t you think?”

It’s not like he had any reason to be concerned for a prince of another country, but nevertheless Fortinbras found himself a little puzzled. Could it be there was something going on in Denmark right now? Something concerning the royal house? And, most importantly, would that be a problem for him and his army as they tried to march through?

“He didn’t tell where he and his companions were going or why, my lord, but they seemed to head towards the harbor.”

Fortinbras brushed his hand through his soft, brown hair; something he found himself doing whenever something was bothering him.

“The more I hear the more I wish to know of these curious circumstances... ,” he then said, and the captain nodded. “Remind me, if I don’t remember it myself, to pay a proper visit to the king and his court once we return victorious from Poland.”

“Yes, my lord,” the captain smiled. “That would be the most wonderful opportunity to also meet the prince himself, don’t you think? Given he is still in the country once we arrive.”

“You’re right, I’d certainly like to meet him after hearing so much about him.”

“My lord is excited to show off his swordman skills, isn’t that right?” the captain smirked, and Fortinbras let out a laughter.

“You know me all too well, old friend. I’d like to show who is the best sword fighter in all of north,” the prince replied and grinned, momentarily forgetting his sudden uneasiness.

“Without taking sides,” the captain laughed, “I’m sure it’s our own king-to-be!”

“You’re most definitely taking sides, captain. That’s your job!” the prince smiled.

Then he stopped, realizing something important he had overlooked:

“Ah, and what about the permission?”

“Granted, my lord. The king is wise; he knows letting us travel through his land peacefully is the best thing to do in order to keep peace between our countries.”

“Excellent. Onwards, then!”

But even when marching, Fortinbras couldn't shake off the ominous feeling he had.

It wasn't like him to let these kind of things bother him, and that in itself was all the more to make him feel like something was off; it was like even the air he breathed while on the land of Denmark had gotten somehow broodier.

“I wonder what all that was about…” he thought and looked at the clear sky. “Somehow I doubt he is returning back to university I heard he attends, considering his father the king died just recently, and his mother just got married. I’d imagine the new king wants to keep him under his supervising eye…”

Fortinbras let out a small sigh, but thankfully it went unnoticed by his men.

“King Claudius is not a man to be underestimated; he is as cunning as he is cruel. There are already rumors of him having killed the previous king, and while only whispers, I have no doubts he could do that if he wanted to,” the young prince mused, now frowning slightly. “He might fear prince Hamlet is a threat to his newly acquired crown and try to do something to him.”

A light laughter finally escaped from him, and he managed to relax himself:

“This is why I prefer fighting over thinking,” he frowned. “Truly, it’s no good for me to try to use my head like this. I’ll just get a headache.”

Then, as if to conclude everything, he jokingly added:

“I just hope Hamlet is alive by the time I return from Poland, so I can finally have a chat with him.”

[ikiaikainen]

Planchette

A short story of a lonely, ill boy who consults the ouija board in order to get a friend. (2017)

Featured on my oneshot collection Something Strange on Tapas. 

Albert had always known of his mother's spirit board; it's not like her attempts to hide it were great in the first place. Said board was stored inside a small, locked trunk in the attic, and the key to open it had carelessly been placed in mother's box of jewelery and other small trinkets she certainly liked, but hardly ever used.

As such, taking the key from the box was undoubtedly the easiest part of this whole scheme Albert had carefully crafted in the past week.

The hardest part was to make the board work while doing it alone. These boards, at least according to his classmates, operated on group energy, and so doing it alone would defeat the purpose. But the whole reason Albert even wanted to use the ominous board in the first place was to have a friend (since he had none), and so he had no other choice but to try it alone.

"Never use the board at home," he had once heard a classmate tell another. "Otherwise you might invite a demon into your house."

"That sounds great," Albert had thought upon hearing this exchange. A demon in the house was certainly better than nobody.

Albert had chosen their home basement as the ideal place to use the board, as the mood of the place was perfect: quiet and eerie, no other location within the large house had quite the same feeling of ominousity and dread as this one had. As younger, Albert had been convinced the entire basement was haunted and that a hideous child-eating monster lived there. He wasn't sure at what point he stopped being afraid of the basement, but it might have been the time when he realized it was the least likely place his father would visit whenever intoxicated and aggressive.

Albert had lit a few candles here and there to give light in the otherwise dark cellar, the old board now resting on the floor and surrounded by candles. The flames flickered in careful motions, indicating the basement wasn't entirely windproof: there had to be a hole somewhere within the old, cold walls of it, but Albert couldn't tell where exactly this spot was.

On top of the board a small planchette rested, carefully placed in the middle and waiting to be used. Albert felt a little nervous (and somewhat foolish) about all this, but the idea of finally having someone, anyone, to talk to was making him determined to go through with his plan. The boy inhaled deeply and then exhaled, collecting himself for this hopefully historical moment where he would finally get a friend of his own.

Gently, Albert touched the planchette on the board and started moving it in a circle very slowly, clockwise and three times. He then cleared his throat in an almost ceremonial manner, and with the squeaky voice of a middle schooler he was, Albert spoke: "Is there anyone here with me?"

No answer.

Albert tried again, this time with more courage: "Is there someone, anyone, here with me?"

Still no answer, and Albert could feel the uncomfortable cold sweat starting to fall down on his back. After having gone through all the trouble to start this, however, he had no intentions to stop the game just yet.

For the third time, Albert called out: "Is there anyone here with me?"

What happened next was something Albert couldn't quite put into words: it was almost like the planchette itself had started to move, but simultaneously it was as if his own hand had stopped cooperating with him and was now leading the small piece of wood across the board, all the way to the left side with the text "NO" written on it.

"Very funny," Albert said with a frown, but after the initial mix of amusement and annoyance, the boy started to realize there indeed was someone with him - and that someone had immediately started messing with him.

"Do you have a name?" he asked, and the planchette moved towards "YES" on the right top corner of the board.

"What is it?" Albert then asked as a follow-up to his previous question. One by one, the board spelled out W-I-N-S-D-T-O-N, but Albert wasn't sure if the spirit just didn't know how to spell, if it was messing with him again or if he had just looked at the letters wrong. He decided to gamble on it, and responded to the supposed spirit in the room: "Your name is Winston?"

The board moved to "YES" once again, and Albert figured he himself was probably the one who couldn't spell properly, and he really wished he could go to school more often. Staying at home all the time made him slightly less intelligent at an alarming rate, or so he often felt.

"Nice. Uh, mine is Albert," he finally replied and nodded awkwardly to the blank space on the other side of the board. Albert was certain the spirit was right there in front of him, although he couldn't have explained why or how he thought this way.

"How old are you? I'm 13, turning 14 soon," the boy then spoke to the board once again.

The board, in turn, spelled out 1-7.

"You're pretty old," Albert replied. "How long have you been 17?"

"F-O-R-S-O-M-E-T-I-M-E," the board replied.

"Does it suck to be dead?"

"YES"

Albert nodded knowingly.

"Then, Winston, um... Would you like to be my friend?"

Finally, the question he had wanted to ask since the beginning. Albert closed his right hand into a fist and waited anxiously for the answer, left hand resting on top of the planchette.

"W-H-Y," Winston seemed to ask.

"Uh...," Albert started hesitantly. "I have no friends."

"W-H-Y," the board spelled out again.

"I'm sick," the boy replied sadly. "And weird. But mostly sick. I'm not allowed to go to school really often, so nobody wants to hang around with someone like that."

He took a small pause, and then added with a slightly shaky voice: "And they say you shouldn't get attached to someone who might die at any point."

Albert felt the tingling under his fingers again, and the board replied:

W-A-N-T-T-O-K-N-O-W-W-H-E-N-Y-O-U-D-I-E"

Albert shook his head. "No thank you."

"W-H-Y"

"I don't think I'd be able to do anything useful with that information," he explained and shrugged. "I would spend the rest of my days being afraid of dying and waiting for the time it comes, and I'd forget to live while I'm still alive."

"S-M-A-R-T-B-O-Y," Winston replied, and Albert couldn't help but feel a little proud of his answer, and found himself puffing up his chest a little.

"So, um, yes... I have no friends because of that. And I was wondering if you'd like to be my friend?"

Winston seemed to think for a while, and during this moment of thoughtful silence Albert wished he would have been able to see Winston: what kind of face was he making right now? And what colour was his hair? Was Winston tall? They weren't even friends yet, but Albert wanted to know this and a lot of more about Winston. Did he like dogs? Or was he more of a cat person? Was he able to play an instrument while alive? Did he read books?

Albert's excited line of thought was interrupted when the wooden piece under his left hand finally started moving, but what it spelled out puzzled Albert.

"D-O-Y-O-U-T-R-U-S-T-M-E"

"I don't know," the boy stated rather nonchalantly. "I mean we just met. Do you usually trust people the moment you meet them?"

"NO"

"Why do you ask?"

But there was no answer, and Albert thought it was better to continue being persistent about his own question instead.

"Will you be my friend? Y-you can say no too if you want." Albert's reassuring words were betrayed by his sad tone of voice: he didn't want to think he would never speak to Winston after this. He was already closer to the spirit than he had ever been to his classmates; at least Winston had spoken to him more than just two words.

"A-R-E-Y-O-U-A-F-R-A-I-D-O-F-M-E"

"Nope, not really. Or should I be? Are you an evil spirit?"

"W-H-O-K-N-O-W-S," Winston answered, and after a short pause the planchette moved again:

"D-O-E-S-I-T-M-A-T-T-E-R-T-O-Y-O-U"

Albert smiled: "No, it doesn't. An evil spirit as a friend is better than no friend at all."

"I-S-T-H-A-T-S-O"

"I think so, yes."

"W-A-I-T-S-T-I-L-L"

Albert didn't know what this meant, but he saw no reason to decline. He sat still, looking at the board and the flickering lights around it, unsure whether the dancing flames were still a result of the draft inside the basement, or due to Winston's otherworldly presence. He tried to listen if some sort of sound colld be heard, but it was just as silent in the cellar as it had been when he arrived there, as if the entire space was completely cut away from the rest of the world, wrapped in by the darkness and silence.

Then, without any warning, one of the candles near Albert died out. It was as if someone had blown it out and soon another candle from Albert's other side was also snuffed out of light. Albert shivered a little, feeling how his heart rate was going higher once more as he looked at blown out candles.

"D-did you do that, Winston?" he gasped, his hand still resting on top of the wooden planchette.

"YES" the board spelled.

Albert felt like Winston was almost smug about what he had done, even though he had no way of telling. Nevertheless, Albert could just imagine a boy older than him, smirking in front of him after performing a creepy trick to scare the younger one - almost like a big brother, even.

"That was a little scary," the boy finally admitted, but didn't forget to add: "But also really cool! You're a really strong spirit, aren't you?"

"T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U"

"I'm not afraid of you, even if you were an evil spirit, Winston! Just please tell me if you accept to be my friend or not," he finally found himself whimpering, unable to wait for the answer any longer. He had hoped to sound brave and heroic while speaking out the words, but instead his voice was weak and shaky, and above all tired as his stamina was slowly running out.

The board went eerily silent, and for a good minute there was no answer. None of the candles moved, there were no odd noises and the room's ambience was exactly the same as before, making Albert certain Winston was still present; just silent.

Finally, the board spelled:

"F-R-I-E-N-D"

And then it continued with three words: "A-L-B-E-R-T", "W-I-N-S-T-O-N" and "F-R-I-E-N-D-S"

"Would you really?!" Albert gasped in awe.

"YES" Winston replied.

"Thank you Winston! You're my first friend!" Albert found himself tearing up a little, and with his bandaged right hand he wiped away the tears from his eyes.

"I hope you aren't tired. Do you want to talk more with me tomorrow?"

"W-H-Y-T-O-M-O-R-R-OW"

"I'm starting to get a little exhausted... I should go to bed or I'll faint here," he admitted somewhat sadly, head hanging low. The rapid heartbeat was still there, and it didn't do good for him to get this excited.

"T-O-M-O-R-R-O-W"

Albert smiled from ear to ear, taking this answer as a yes.

"Bye then, Winston! See you tomorrow!" he grinned tiredly.

"GOODBYE" the board replied, and all the candles were suddenly blown out, leaving Albert into the dark basement without a single source of light.

He dug up a matchbox out of his pocket and set fire on one of the candle, and Albert couldn't help but notice a shadow moving fast from the corner of his eye, hiding into where the candle's light didn't reach. The presence of Winston still lingered in the room, and for a short moment Albert felt something akin to fear crawling up his back.

"No," he told himself firmly and then shook his head. "Winston is my friend. There is no need to fear."

But even then, when Albert finally left the basement and returned to his own room, he couldn't push away the lingering uneasiness in his body - and rightfully so, as he had just talked with a spirit. Albert's whole body shivered, and when the coughing fit started, he blamed himself for getting too worked up over the events of the past few hours; the iron taste of fresh blood in his mouth was the price of making his very first friend.

Albert couldn't help but wonder if this would remain as the only payment for what he had done. After all, nothing in this world came for free, and fatigue and blood were hardly the equivalent of a bond formed with a spirit.

Hearing the sound of his parents fighting outside his room, however, reminded Albert there wasn't much to lose anymore at this point.

[ikiaikainen]

Sorry about the silence here! I’m currently in the progress of editing a bigger chunk of oneshots and generally trying to arrange my writings into one place. Thank you for your patience!

[ikiaikainen]

Sinfonia: Regarding Claude [Leon side]

Leon narrates his feelings about Claude, shedding some light into Claude's character from Leon's own perspective. Experimental, very connected to my upcoming VN about these boys. (2017)

Leon had seen the new boy here and there: with looks like his, it was hard to simply walk past him without the image of him being burnt into your memory. Long, wavy and flaxen hair elegantly resting on his narrow shoulders as he walked, his steps graceful and full of self assured pride typical for people who were beautiful. His light blue eyes were always in a permanent narrow and they reminded Leon of a cat, especially when Claude’s pupils narrowed visibly whenever walking in a bright light. Leon could also see his adolescence had already started from the way his featured lacked the childish roundness, but unlike with many other boys, his skin remained smooth and soft looking, like that of a girl’s. His voice showed only the slightest hint of cracking, reminding Leon of just how terrible his own had been when it started, and feeling a strike of childish jealousy over such a slow and stable change he himself had not had the luxury of receiving.

Claude was someone Leon would have wanted to like. An ambitious person just like he was, with a desire to lead people. He was self assured and determined, and had the kind of smarts Leon knew he himself lacked, whereas Claude lacked Leon’s athletic and strong physique. They could have been pretty good friends despite their two years of difference in age, and in a way Leon felt like he would have wanted to push Claude to the right direction, like a mentor or brother of sort.  

Too bad Leon didn’t like Claude much.

It started out with small things. Leon had seen Claude the first time when he was taken to the third years’ common room to entertain them. It was nothing unusual, just some childish bossing around seniors each year did to the new boys. Sometimes they also invited their favourites over to hang out with them, either as entertainers or servants of sort, or simply as friends.

Claude had originally been invited there to be made fun of so that the older boys could establish their dominance. But instead he had outsmarted and humiliated a student who had jokingly suggested kissing, and as such earned the respect of almost everyone who was in the room - Leon included, back then. He had been amused by the first year’s wits, but hadn’t given more thought to Claude in particular - he was busy hanging around with Jet or doing something foolish and reckless to gain his own approval from others.

From then on Claude became a regular in the third year’s common room. There were other students too from years one and two though, so Leon had not given special attention to Claude, although he had noticed Claude seemed to be everyone’s biggest favourite.

As the time went by, however, Leon started to notice a change in Claude. Or rather, it was a change in the way people viewed him. Small streams had turned into a river: Claude had gained so much approval he was fast becoming the new idol of the school, rivaling even the boy called Julius whom Leon remembered from his time as a first year - but he had only heard of tales of what went down in the third year’s common room with Julius.

Before he noticed it, Claude was flirting with every boy of the school. It was subtle and tactful as not to alert the teachers, but every boy of the school knew what Claude was up to, and what he was capable of. At some point it was not an odd sight to see the first year in third years’ areas, usually some guy lying on his lap while Claude pet his hair and talked sweet in a way that was polite, but romantic enough to get other adolescent guys all weak.

And then he started to reveal his true nature. People who didn’t like Claude usually ended up in trouble in a way or another, and soon it was clear to everyone Claude was behind it all. If you got on his bad side you’d definitely feel it biting you back sooner or later, and in order to advance his own popularity and rank within the internal hierarchy he’d double deal, lie and plan to get what he wanted. As another fairly popular student, Leon saw all this with his own eyes. He never interfered, but he felt uneasy about Claude and the things he could do.

But what really made Leon hate Claude was the way he treated Chris. Leon couldn’t see what the prefect saw in Claude, making him his roommate during the spring.

Chris overlooked what Claude did, and Claude would constantly try to outsmart Chris. The two would often enter into debates. Usually Chris won simply because of his authority over Claude as a prefect, but it was clear Claude never felt like he truly lost to Chris.

Leon didn’t know how Chris felt about Claude as the two had not been too close after their first year in shared room, but he couldn’t help but feel angry about how Claude was constantly trying to make fun of Chris. Sometimes he even succeeded, and Leon was certain Claude was using Chris just like he did with everyone else. That boy had no concept of mercy nor empathy; he did exactly as he wanted and what entertained him the most, and everyone else was on his leash.

Leon didn’t like that. He didn’t like the way Claude looked down upon others, those cold cat eyes arrogantly glancing over even boys much older than him. Especially when it came to Chris and the way Claude treated him, Leon could hardly contain his anger: Chris was still a friend to him, and seeing a friend constantly being forced to deal with Claude’s fickleness was infuriating.

Claude was a devil, and Leon refused to accept him. He would never forgive him and he would never want to associate with someone who so coldly treated everyone around him like a disposable waste.

And then, after Chris’ disappearance, when Leon heard about Claude getting a new roommate, he knew what he was going to do.

He was not going to let Claude terrorize yet another boy. Leon didn’t even know who the newcomer would be, but he had already decided to warn him about his snake of a roommate.

[ikiaikainen]

Sinfonia: Scar face

Oneshot about 13-year-old Jet on his first day at the boarding school. The hideous scars on his face strike both fear and respect in the other students, ultimately making it impossible for anyone to dare to talk to him - or so Jet thinks. (2017)

The whispering started the very moment Jet walked out of the class and stepped in the hallway. It was nothing out of ordinary for him, however, as he had endured this sort of behavior back in his old school already. He was more than aware of how the scars over his left eye were visible for everyone to see, the dark, rough and deep furrows  travelling across his face. Added by the fact it was not all that common for someone to have a hair as dark as him, he had known he would be the topic of whispers and gossips at school the moment he had shown his face there.

Not many years ago, a smitten girl with an obsession over his deep blue eyes had attacked him. Her long nails had tried to dig his eye out with animalistic, rough motions that had permanently damaged his skin; the movements he could still sometimes feel burning against his face’s skin in his nightmares. Although she had not succeeded in her mission and Jet miraculously retained his eyesight, the scars on his face were deep and ugly, and they would never heal. Every time he looked in the mirror he would remember the girl who did this to him; the bitter, fear stained memories he would have preferred to forget altogether.

That’s when the whispers had started and entered Jet’s life to stay. People would steal morbidly curious glances at him, whisper when they thought Jet wouldn’t see or hear them, and some would do that without even bothering to pretend they weren’t talking about Jet. The moment other people had seen his scars the first time Jet had felt like he was no longer quite human: to the way he was treated with a mixture of pity, curiosity and, worst of all, fear, was how people usually felt about animals rather than human beings. He had become something else, someone who wasn’t quite part of the group no matter where he went. An outsider, a monster donning a human’s skin.

As he walked across the hallway with a book pressed against his chest, Jet could clearly hear the sounds of the other boys whispering and talking about him:

“That’s the new junior? What happened to his face?”

“Isn’t he a son of some sort of mafioso? Look at his hair too, he isn’t from around here!”

“I heard he fought a gang leader and received his scars from that fight!”

“And I heard he got them from his father as a punishment for misbehaving!”

So many stories, all of them false.

None of those things were the actual truth, but these rumors seemed to entertain the bored boys. In all-boys school the boredom was often very visible, and the boys talked about anything that could even remotely keep their attention - whether those things were real or not were only secondary things, unneeded small details ruining an otherwise good story.

Jet had only within a day learned that everyone either feared him, or alternatively respected him too much to even talk to him - often, among these boys, it was both. Everyone thought he was some sort of delinquent who had received his scars from dangerous and aggressive behavior, and a very popular rumor also was that his father was a leader of a criminal gang. Nobody wanted to mess with Jet and cause him trouble, but in their fear they also felt too intimidated to as much as talk to him outside of classroom group activities urged by the teachers.

Jet only had books to read to pass time today - or so he thought.

“Hey, are you one of the first years? Russo?”

Out of nowhere a boy slightly older than him appeared, his face covered in plasters and small wounds. He was slightly taller than Jet was, and his hair was messy, short and light brown in colour. He had an athletic build for a boy his age and seemed so old Jet had hard time estimating his age, although he guessed he could be a third year.

“U-uh, yes, that’s me. Just call me Jet,” he found himself replying, instinctively clutching the book against his chest. Although the boy didn’t seem hostile, Jet was always on his toes around people, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

“I’m Leonhard, but call me Leon! I hate my full name, it’s so weird!” the boy smiled, his dark blue eyes curiously observing Jet and his reactions. He didn’t seem to pay attention to his scar or even take glances at it, which admittedly caught Jet off guard. “We’ll be roommates this year! Want to hang out with me?”

This all came so sudden to Jet that he was at a loss of words. Hang out? With this cheerful boy? Surely this had to be some sort of joke. His friends were probably waiting behind the corner to tackle Jet or make fun of him or something.

But as Jet kept looking at Leon with a dumbfounded expression, he saw nothing even vaguely similar to hostility or bad intentions in Leon’s demeanor: he was relaxed, his hands lazily in his pockets as he kept smiling at Jet and waiting for his answer.

“Sure… I wouldn’t mind,” Jet finally answered after assessing the situation, and he found himself nodding awkwardly.

“Alright, let’s go! I’m going to show you the whole school!” Leon grabbed Jet’s hand gently, but firmly enough to take the boy with him. Jet almost dropped the book he was holding, and just barely managed to keep it from falling as Leon tugged him forward.

»»-------------------------¤------------------------««

Just as he had promised, Leon showed Jet everything. From the classrooms to basement all the way to areas that had “no entry” attached to their entrances (Leon ignored all of them, and Jet couldn’t help but follow his lead).

“Actually there is so much more in here, but I want to show them a little later. This school has so many things going on it’s impossible to show them all at once,” Leon explained after they had sat down on the nearby stairs. “Also, I think it’s better if I show some places when there are less people walking around. Everyone is always so excited on the first day they keep wandering around. In a few weeks though everyone is going to be sitting in the lounge and lazing around, or just be in their rooms.”

“Thank you for showing me around, Leon,” Jet thanked him politely.

“No need to thank me! When I heard I’d get a first year as my roommate I was super excited! I decided I want to make friends with him, no matter what!” His voice then got quieter as he added: “And also... I saw the way the other boys looked at you, and I didn’t like it, so I decided to pull you with me instead. It’s no fun if your first impression of this place is going to be worthless rumors and nasty whispers.”

Jet’s first impression of Leon had been that he was rather simple: he expressed his feelings very openly and dragged people with him without asking any questions. He was the leader type, definitely, the kind who didn’t need to make an effort to make people like them. But Jet had not really expected this side of Leon, the more considerate side he got to witness now.

Nevertheless, he was grateful of it.

“Thank you, Leon,” Jet found himself replying, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m glad I got a roommate you like.”

Leon visibly perked up by Jet’s reaction, like an excited dog, and Jet found it very charming.

“Just wait until you meet your other roommate, Chris! He is the nicest guy around here! And he knows how to access the kitchen at night without getting caught…”

Surprising even himself, Jet laughed. It was a small and soft laughter, a sound he had not heard coming from him for a long time now. Then, still smiling, he answered:

“I’m looking forward to it... This year is going to be great, I’m sure of it.”

[ikiaikainen]

Sinfonia: Adoration

A short scene from Claude's first year. Between compliments and caresses Claude is reminded of the superficiality of his own actions, and the less-than-flattering reason he has even gotten this far. (2017) 

“I’m not into guys, you know?” he said while holding Claude around his waist. “Most of us aren’t. You and I both know it. But with no cute girls in this school, sometimes you just gotta… take what you get, right?”

“Mmm-h,” Claude responded, swirling his long, pale fingers around the boy’s curly brown hair. “Why are you telling me this, exactly?”

“I dunno….,” the other replied. “Probably got a bit drunk. Wouldn’t even be here otherwise.”

“Fool,” Claude laughed softly, mocking the other.

“We like you because you look like a girl, that’s all.”

Claude continued smiling, but this time through gritted teeth.

“And we fear you because you… Well, nobody can tell what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, y’know? You’re smart, way too smart. It’s kinda scary, ya know how to ruin lives if ya want to.”

He was obviously drunk by the way he slurred words and sometimes slipped to an accent he had probably tried to hide. Claude knew he probably wouldn’t even remember this moment between them at all tomorrow, much less any details of what exactly he had said to him.

And of course Claude knew.

He had known from the beginning that the flirting he did would not have been received the same way had it not been for the way he looked.

He knew a lot of the respect that came from the others was purely because Claude knew how to be entertaining and not let too much out. He knew they liked him because he knew how to put up a show, and to appeal to their adolescent need for physical affection and some vague idea of romance without still going too far to risk their reputation.

It was a game, after all.

And really, Claude was not much different from them. He, too, yearned for that kind of affection. He wanted someone to hold him, feel someone else’s presence close to his. He wanted to feel, even if for a moment, that he was the most important person to someone else. He wanted to be wanted and important even momentarily, to receive the validation he constantly found himself seeking.

So, everyone got something good out of this, didn’t they? And nobody even got hurt if they knew what they were getting into, and everyone knew that.

But it did sting to be reminded during the moment Claude had been waiting for that this was all a ruse, but he swallowed his anger and disappointment, and focused only on the attention.

The boy opened his drunken mouth again, but this time he didn’t get to say anything as Claude interrupted him. Smiling, but with a somewhat aggressive overall disposition, he spoke:

“If you don’t want to continue your night in the principal’s office for being busted for drinking, I’d really recommend you to just keep your mouth shut and do what you’re supposed to do instead of babbling about. Are we clear?”

The boy flinched, and after a moment of confused hesitation, he slowly nodded.

“Fuck… Yer right. Sorry, don’t tell anyone I got wasted. It’s not like I hate ya.”

“Good, then just stay quiet and don’t think.”

Claude wrapped his arms closer around the other boy as he kept playing with his hair, trying to forget the words he had heard, focusing only on the moment at hand.

The closeness he felt, the simple adoration he received.

It was enough. It was all he really needed to feel validated.

So, then, why did he let the boy’s words bother him so?  

[ikiaikainen]

Marital lies

A very short drabble where Tiera confronts a woman who claims she and Tiera are engaged and he can’t leave the land until their wedding has been held. Tiera, however, is not willing to put up with such clear lies. (2015)

"Engaged, to you?" Tiera asked, his hands crossed, eyes slightly narrowed. It was not his usual face, not the mysterious look he gave to those who tried approaching him. His eyes, usually serene like forest lakes, were now sharp, pupils narrowed like those of a cat’s. This change in the man's appearance was also noticeable to the young woman who was standing in front of him, shivering.

"Pardon me, Katia, but I do not recall ever agreeing on such a thing with you. And I know my family well enough to know they would never agree on this either," the man spoke. Although Tiera’s words were respectful and he spoke calmly, anyone could see he was on offense. His words pierced the young woman like icicles.

"But I--" the woman started, but Tiera silenced her by only raising his palm a little.

"I currently do not wish for a partner; not man, not woman, not anyone. This is the choice I have made and it is something I won't change simply because of blackmail, foul play or words with no truth to them."

Tiera closed his eyes and exhaled.

"You and your family have been good to me, Katia. You're an excellent hunter and you’ll make a great partner, but your wickedness doesn't go unnoticed."

The woman, Katia, averted her eyes. She clearly felt bad for letting her own desires get the ahead of her - and Tiera's own feelings. Katia knew she had offended the man with her lies of them being encaged.

"So please, let me go. Ill is not what I wish for you, but forcing someone to love you... is hardly real love. Surely you know that."

[ikiaikainen]

Unused prologue

A man who is willing to give up on his life enters a forest that is said to contain a treasure, but where nobody has ever returned back from. Thinking he rather dies trying to do something heroic than die in vain, the man decides to enter the mysterious forest... (2014)

Back in like 2014 I was supposed to make a visual novel about a man who enters a sacred forest to die. I never ended up making it and I doubt I ever will, but I’m still kind of fond of the prologue! 

"... and here I am. Standing in front of an entrance to the forest of no return."

As I watch the elegant looking trees in front of me, my mind starts to wander.

 "I'm no fighter. I can just barely use a stick as an imaginary sword.

 I'm not strong either. I would be taken down in a combat with a mere strike, maybe two.

 For someone like me, entering such a place is really a suicide and nothing more..."

The wind rustles the leaves around the forest's entrance. Even though it's summer, I can feel a chill stinging on my skin. The area around the forest feels colder.

 I feel like the coldness around this ominous forest is appropriate though: many have lost their lives in there while trying to get the sacred treasure. Nobody has ever returned back to even tell what the forest is like inside.

 "...yes. I'm here to die."

 "There is nothing left for me anymore. For over a year now I have been walking around like my head was in a fog. Nothing feels like anything to me anymore."

 "In short, I have nothing to lose if I enter."

 "Best case scenario: I find the treasure nobody else has ever found and gotten out of the forest"

 "A more realistic scenario, but in no way worse: I die trying"

 "And honestly, even though I'm ready to die, I don't want it to go completely on waste. I want to pretend my death had some sort of meaning. That I tried until my last breath."

 "...that's a heroic death. Or so I like to imagine. I doubt anyone wants to imagine themselves dying in vain."

 The wind gets stronger around me. My hair is moving in the wind, messing this morning's desperate attempt of keeping it in some sort of order.

 "Well, at least I tried"

 I take a few steps closer to the entrance.

I could still turn back

I could turn back and maybe get my life in order. It's not too late.

 -- but I enter anyway. I have already set up my mind, and even though there might be regrets, I won't back down anymore.

 In the outside world, there really isn't anything to offer for me anymore. Nothing satisfies me anymore. The reality has became too much for me to handle.

 So that's why... maybe what I really am seeking from this weird greenland is one more experience, a salvation for this constant numbness. One last call for help.

[ikiaikainen]

Vampire

A boy turned into a vampire before reaching his adulthood monologues about finally getting someone to understand him and the kind of life he leads and the struggles he has to overcome on a daily basis. 

A prompt done for a random sentence generator result “I am eternally a boy - in time you will join me, and you will be the first.” Probably the most pretentious and edgiest thing I have written so far, and I assure you I enjoyed every second of it. Writing style is very experimental. (2016)

I am eternally a boy.

In my past, my present and my future I was a boy, am a boy and will forever be a boy.

Never to age, never to wither away,

caged to a flesh of a child.

In this body that will never be a man, I have walked decades. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen the mistakes of generations, never to learn, forever to repeat them as I observe them and walk along them.

The world around me changes, but I don’t.

It’s a world where I am to witness everything, yet experience nothing. A world where I am always just a boy, a child, no matter how long I have lived. My voice will never change, my body will never mature. The gleam from my eyes will never dim, the brightness of my hair never fade.

I am ethereal. I am eternal. But I am forever unfinished.

Blessed with a never aging body.

Cursed with a never aging body.

But in no time you will join me, and you will be the first to understand me.

In a world where we are above the rest, but also in a world that has forgotten us. A world that fears us, detest us. A world where we move when the sun is down, when the longest shadows fall on the streets; when the world averts its eyes for a brief moment.

You and I will be eternal, forever dancing together under the illuminating whiteness of the moonlight.

[ikiaikainen]

Underground

A very simple sentence prompt I was given by a friend (” the gnarled, ancient wall gave a soft, electronic -bloop- “), written in one go without any particular direction. 

Hannes and Teru are exploring underground ruins, but as they continue walking in the silent darkness, they become uncomfortably aware they are not alone. (2017)

“Teru, you have to be very careful. We do not know just what kind of things this place has in for us,” Hannes spoke in a soft but warning tone while holding the torch. Behind him Teru was following, curiously glancing at the ancient architecture the flame’s light illuminated. Shadows danced around the old, gnarled walls of the underground building.

“Yes yes, I’m going to be very careful,” Teru replied with a considerably less serious tone compared to his overly cautious partner.

“... I wouldn’t put it past you when you get excited,” Hannes murmured, but his tone was more teasing than accusing, if anything. Teru grinned.

There was barely any sound deep underground where the two were making their way. The noise of the outside world was entirely blocked by these walls that protected this place from the passage of time. Both Hannes and Teru felt like they had been whisked into the past as they walked through the long tunnel, its walls decorated with ancient pictures depicting people, animals and gods.

The air they breathed felt just as ancient, and Hannes couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like to walk here, thousands of years in the past. Did the looming darkness all around them make people as nervous as they made him? Did the eerie silence unsettle people as they passed these halls and tunnels?  He had no way of knowing, but at least he had his imagination.

As they walked further in, the surrounding darkness started feeling oppressive, as if it was alive. The shadows around them danced wilder and the torch’s light flickered ominously.  

“Hannes, I don’t like this…” Teru whispered and gently grasped Hannes’ sleeve.

“So you feel it too…?” was the reply, spoken in a whisper. Although his voice was not wavering, Teru could tell Hannes was just as uneasy as he was.

“I feel like we’re being followed… No, rather, I feel like we are surrounded.”

“Just don’t stop walking, and don’t look back. Just focus on looking forward,” Hannes spoke and started walking faster, Teru following in suit. They didn’t want to let fear overcome them, but they both gradually, instinctively, started increasing their walking speed until they came to the end of the hall.

It was a dead end.

“... not good,” Teru sighed, taking a tighter hold of Hannes.

“This can’t be the end.” A soft but frustrated sigh. “There has to be a way to advance from here.”

Hannes was clearly starting to get agitated, and as the tension rose, so did the atmosphere around them turn more hostile.

“They’re coming closer,” Teru thought, trying not to panic. The hair on his back was standing upright in terror as he sensed the otherworldly all around him. It was not the feeling of meeting demons in the demon world, it was something different. Something unknown, something ancient; something strong and unpredictable, and absolutely unstoppable if they let it take over.  

Meanwhile Hannes’ hands moved feverishly across the wall. He tried to find something, anything, that could give him leads of how to advance. Turning around and going back wasn’t an option, as Hannes was just as aware as Teru was of the danger around them. They’d have to fight their way out and face whatever was surrounding them, circling around like vultures waiting for their opportunity.

Faster. He had to be faster.

“Can I crash the wall? I’m going to crash the wall,” Teru spoke, only half joking with his suggestion.

“Don’t, we will both die and that’s not good,” Hannes replied, and at that moment he felt something underneath his fingers. “Here…!” he gasped. He pressed his hand firmly against the small, barely visible nib sticking from the wall.

The gnarled, ancient wall gave a soft, electronic “bloop”, and a wall opened in front of them. And not a moment too late: right as they stepped in, they both could feel a hand brushing against their backs, long claws extended, ready to tear them into shreds. 

[ikiaikainen]

We called him Colin

A sentence prompt warmup about a group of boys and their mysterious young teacher. A very simple text I was never even meant to publish but sometimes you just gotta. (2016)

We called him Colin, and soon figured he was a teacher.

Colin was not there on the first day of the school when all the teachers were introduced to us. There was no empty seat left either, so none of us expected a new teacher to arrive this year at all.

Colin arrived on the second day. He was a young man, so you young, in fact, that we first thought he must have been someone’s big brother. Colin was tall but very slim, and it seemed he had trouble finding clothes his size, as his jeans and his green sweater both seemed slightly too big for him. His scruffy, light brown hair and a very small stubble together with his clothes gave him a slightly unruly look. Like some sort of werewolf, we joked. Or an artist.

Colin had a brown briefcase he never opened. Sometimes papers were sticking out of it, but if someone pointed this out, he would pretend as if he could see no such a thing, and fix the paper issue only when nobody was looking.

We thought of it as odd, but it was not the oddest thing about Colin.

It was the fact we never seemed to have his lessons. Ever.

In fact, none of us even knew what he was teaching. And none of us really asked either, as the mystery of this weird, scruffy teacher was intriguing. We liked that. Every day when we saw him we liked to speculate what he might be. Making wild theories and assumptions about him was so fun we didn’t want to break the illusion by asking him about it.

Colin was nice. He didn’t talk much and he usually just supervised students during recesses, but he’d sometimes come to us.

“What are you boys up to? Some sort of secret plans?” he would smile at us and then continue while winking: “Whatever you’re planning, make sure any teacher won’t catch you.”

Colin was almost like a friend to us. A cool big brother. He didn’t even feel like a teacher.

But one day Colin was absent.

And then he was absent on the second day as well.

Sooner than we noticed, a week had passed with Colin nowhere to be seen.

We usually didn’t talk about Colin to other teachers or even students outside of our friend group. It was simply because we wanted to think of him as a mysterious person, and also because he didn’t teach anything to us. So, there had never been any need to do that.

But after Colin had been absent for two weeks, we started getting worried.

During a history lesson we asked mrs Hayfether about Colin. About where he was and had something happened to him, and if he was alright.

Mrs Hayfether, an older woman with a sharp, cat-like gaze looked at us for a moment after we asked her. She adjusted her round glasses and then looked at us again, now from behind them.

“There is no teacher called Colin in our school. I don’t know what you boys are up to, but I’m not going to have any of it. Now, continue reading the chapter and stop wasting my time.”

[ikiaikainen]

SINFONIA: Fight

Taking place during Claude’s first year in the boarding school, Claude finds himself in the middle of a fight observed by the other students. Physically unfit for it, Claude only has his wits to use in order to get out of the storm’s eye unharmed and with his reputation clean. 

A little further away, Thomas and Chris are observing the battle unfolding in front of them. (2017)

“What is your damage?” Claude asked, his lip twitching a little in annoyance as he stared at the older boy.   

“I’m sick and tired of your constant games, pretty boy, that’s what,” the upperclassman, Anthony, sneered mockingly. “Other guys might love you because you’re pretty and room with Chris, but I’m not some sort of stupid sheep. You’re not the king of this school, and I’m here to show you your damn place!”

“Hey, cut it out!” a boy standing near them shouted.

“Yeah! Leave Claude alone! another replied.

“Anthony is right! Show him he can’t do just whatever he pleases here just because he is pretty!”

“Claude don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous because their own rank was lowered this morning!”

“Go Anthony! Show who is the man here!

The boys started yelling in unison, one side, which was the clear majority, cheering for Claude, another for Anthony. The two boys in the middle of the whole storm kept staring at each other, blue eyes meeting green with a taunt. 

“I’m not going to fight you, Anthony. It proves nothing,” the blond replied calmly, but his confrontational look had not disappeared from his face.

Then, as a reply, Anthony slapped Claude’s cheek, and all the boys around them gasped almost exaggeratedly. 

“It’s a duel!” one of the boys shouted. “How old fashioned!”

“There is gonna be a fight!” another yelled, and at that moment all the boys gathered around Anthony and Claude, forming a circle.

“What is it, Claude? Scared?” Anthony jeered and cracked his knuckles. “You might look like a girl, but no other boy is coming to your rescue, princess.”

Claude laughed loudly.

“Is that supposed to insult me?” he asked and his expression started forming a viciously arrogant smile. “I know what I look like. Congratulations for having eyes, Anthony,” Claude continued with the kind of cocky self confidence that made Anthony grit his teeth visibly.

“Shut up!” the other boy yelled and charged at Claude. However, Claude managed to avoid the attack easily and jumped out of the angry upperclassman’s way. Quickly he rolled up his sleeves and then gestured Anthony to come at him.

“Try me,” he seemed to say, with an arrogance a boy as small and weak as Claude should in no way display to someone clearly stronger than him.

“To hell with you!” Anthony yelled again, this time even angrier after having his first attack missed.

Claude avoided him again.

“Stop dodging me! he screamed and gave Claude no rest. The self assured expression had disappeared from Claude’s face, but it was simply because he was focused: even one misstep and his entire face would be disfigured forever by Anthony’s large, strong fists that currently were punching air, but could very likely hit Claude if he wasn’t careful.

But no matter how Anthony tried, he couldn’t hit Claude. Claude, in turn, didn’t even try to land a hit on his opponent, and instead fully focused on avoiding the other boy and his rage.

A junior student, Thomas, was watching all this from the sidelines.

“This is like a bullfight…” Thomas whispered to himself. He was standing a little further away from the circle of enthusiastic boys watching the battle, but nevertheless Thomas was looking at the fight with a keen eye.

The PE hall’s door opened next to him, and in dashed Chris, the prefect.

“What’s this commotion?!” Chris asked but didn’t raise his voice: he saw Thomas was standing right there, and clearly decided to ask him first instead before stopping anything.

“There is a fight going on,” Thomas replied calmly.

“Oh, great,” Chris sighed and held his hand against his head. “Who this time. Marth and Jones? Or is it those Edmund and Oliver at it again?”

“Claude and Anthony,” the younger boy answered.

“Claude?” the prefect’s eyebrows raised. “What, why?”

“Some upperclassmen don’t like him and his guts, and Anthony decided to teach him a lesson, apparently. Are you going to stop them?” Thomas was curious of what Chris would do: normally he would have called the fight over already, but now he was clearly holding himself back.

“Hoo boy,” the prefect sighed again, but this time smiling a little. He leaned against the wall next to Thomas. “Let them continue.”

“But why?” Thomas asked silently. He didn’t understand Chris’ reasoning. “Claude is going to get hurt.”

“No he won’t,” Chris replied firmly, looking serious, almost bored with his eyes half closed. “Anthony made a mistake in starting this kind of battle with Claude.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Claude might not be very strong or tall. His built is very delicate, actually. Once punch and he’ll be on the floor.”

“I can see that. So, why?”

“Claude never gets involved into anything he isn’t certain of being able to go through. It just isn’t something he does, simply.” Chris shrugged, but this time with a small grin. “As his roommate I have already seen just what kind of wits that boy has.  Anthony will lose. I’m sure of it.”

The two turned their attention back to the fight. Anthony had started to get tired now, one useless charge after another. He had tried to hit Claude, kick him, punch him and even use his entire body to slam Claude on the ground. But the blond just kept dodging and avoiding his attacks, moving like this was some sort of dance competition. And, much to Anthony's dismay, Claude seemed nowhere near as tired as he was. He wasn’t smiling nor did he have strength to provoke Anthony, but his breathing had not gone particularly heavy or fast quite yet unlike Anthony’s, who was already panting.  

“You… son of a bitch…” he huffed and swung his massive hand, only managing to partially touch Claude’s ponytail as he yielded once more.

“What is it, Anthony? Are you staring to get tired?” a boy from the circle of spectators shouted.

“Shut up!” the older boy yelled, and at that moment his attention was taken away from Claude. Claude saw his chance coming, and using his upper body to balance himself, the blond used his lower body to tackle the unsuspecting Anthony onto the ground.

Surprised by Claude’s sudden attack, Anthony yelled as he hit the ground with a loud thud. However, he still had the strength to immediately roll himself away from Claude’s upcoming kick, and he managed to avoid it just barely. The audience screamed at this sudden change in offense and defense.

“Anthony won’t give up with something like this,” Thomas commented.

“Wait for it,” Chris said and crossed his arms.

Anthony had cleared his head and was now standing again.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he yelled at the excitedly screaming audience. “I still haven’t lost! I won’t… I won’t lose to someone like him!”

He stood up and angrily tried to punch the blond standing in front of him. However, Claude knelt down and avoided the attack, and before Anthony could balance himself back after his strike, Claude used all his strength to bolt up from the ground level and punch Anthony right into his jaw.

The audience broke into cheers and screams as the older boy physically jumped up a little from the impact. Claude had to balance himself back again too from using his entire body to the attack: it seemed he had hurt his own hand in the process, but it didn’t seem to be anything major.

Anthony fell on the ground, and this time he didn’t move for a while.

“Did Claude kill him?!” a high pitched voice of a younger student gasped.

“No, idiot! He is just knocked out!” another replied.

“He is coming back to his senses again!”

Anthony groaned on the floor but he didn’t stand up. Claude was standing further away from him, huffing, unable to keep his posture straight anymore.

“Claude is the winner!” the audience the started screaming in unison. “Claude did it! He actually beat Anthony!”

“With only two whole strikes, nonetheless!”

Anthony’s friends rushed to check on their friend, but the other boys started approaching Claude and cheering for him. However, they couldn’t get far as Chris raised his voice.

“Alright, enough of this show!” he yelled and clapped his hands together. “You all are grounded, immediately go to the headmaster’s office for a punishment for this ridiculous act.”

He turned his attention to Anthony's friends. “You there, take your hot-blooded friend to the nurse’s office and then follow the other boys to the office.”

Chris then looked at Claude. “And Claude, you’ll stay.”

After he was done yelling, all the boys started dragging themselves out of the hall, some muttering curses at Chris from under their breath. The prefect, however, feigned ignorance at that and instead waited for Claude to come to him.

The two boys stood face-to-face in silence until the hallway was completely empty - Thomas leaving as the last person.

“Claude, I’m disappointed in you,” Chris finally started.

“That’s what you say, but you didn’t even try stop the fight. You knew I would win,” Claude replied and attempted a smirk, but he was far too tired to do so.

“Shut up, I didn’t ask for your opinion on my judgement.”

“So, what is my punishment?” Claude asked as if he couldn’t care less, but Chris being mad at him did hurt him a tiny bit. But Claude was, ultimately, too proud of his own win to feel any guilt, and he knew Chris well enough to tell he would not give him a hard punishment. Claude was special, after all. He was certain of it.

“Are you going to kiss me as punishment?” he suggested teasingly.

“The only thing you’ll be kissing is dust. Claude, you’ll do volunteer cleaning work in the old history classroom for one week. Alone.”

“W-what? B-but it’s so dirty there?” Claude huffed, not believing what he had just heard.

“Precisely. I expect you to do as good work dodging the spider webs as you did dodging Anthony there,” Chris smiled. “You’re dismissed. Go to your room, you won’t get any food today.”

Claude felt angry and offended for actually been given a punishment like this, but he couldn’t help but feel glad Chris had, more or less, given him special treatment anyway. Without saying a word, Claude walked past Chris towards the doors.

Only when he was already holding the door’s handle, he turned slightly around and said: “So, who did you place your bets on?”

Chris didn’t answer.

[ikiaikainen]

Desiree

An oneshot about young Desiree after the war ended and he escaped to another country to avoid returning to the laboratories. Escaping is one thing, but starting things over from a blank page with no name or ID or anything is surprisingly hard - and terrifying. 

Originally done for a friend writing group January writing with the theme “Starting over”

(2017)

Upon fleeing the country and the laboratories that had expected him to return back to them, Jonathan Thatcher had not thought of anything else but his escape. He’d figured he’d come up with something once he had just gotten out of the country, and his plans had mostly been revolving around things like how to flee the country and how to survive the trip to overseas without dying of hunger or thirst. He had only thought of the present, because he had been sure he could handle the future just as well.

But starting your life over wasn’t an easy thing to do. Even with his newly acquired superhuman skills, there was only as much Jonathan could do until someone would realize he has no passport, no ID, no nothing - he didn’t even have a name anymore, as using his old name would prove to be extremely dangerous to him.

If he wanted to survive and live free from the inhumane experiments of the laboratories, he’d have to start his life from a blank page.

Now a nameless, homeless man, he wandered through the rainy streets of Rinsington without a clear destination on his mind. He had stolen some money on the ship where he had been sailing across the ocean, but it wouldn’t last forever: he’d have to find something to eat and someplace to sleep in, and he’d have to find a job too. But who’d hire a boy who looked too young to work, and whose leg didn’t work right?

… surely no-one decent, he was sure of that. And, in a way, he had already accepted it. Having killed countless of people on the battlefield and experienced the horrors of the laboratories, he had already prepared himself to do work other people didn’t want to do, or didn’t want to think about.

Dirty work.

Indecent work.

...but how low would he be willing to go?

“One thing is for sure: I won’t take my clothes off,” he thought, partially because he still had some pride in him, but mostly because he knew he could never let people see his leg. It wasn’t a normal sight to see, and it’d definitely alert someone after him.

So, he ruled out certain professions right off the bat, unwilling to even think about them as any sort of possibilities anymore no matter what would come.  

The nameless man eventually found himself a place to stay for the night, and upon being asked his name, he simply came up with something that seemed legitimate enough.

The night fell, and as its companion, it brought the restless sleep and terrifying nightmares.

His life was very monotonous from then on. He’d wake up, eat only enough to keep him standing, and then he’d head outside looking for work. Sometimes he could earn some of his living by helping out merchants with restocking or carrying their things, and sometimes he’d earn a little by delivering some useless religious papers around the city. But he didn’t care about what he did as long as he could earn enough to eat and sleep indoors.

But no matter how he searched, nobody was willing to give him proper work.

“Sorry, boy, we take only people older than 18”

Although he had already lost the meaning of time, he could still at least remember his own birth year. He knew he was already over 18, but without an ID to prove his year of birth, he had very little proof to back up his arguments.

As the weeks passed by, he got weaker.

He could only afford the bare minimum with what he did, and as such, he had started losing weight. Not only that, but the bad dreams would more often than not keep him awake at night, and every single crack and tap and knock he heard while restlessly lying on his bed would make him immediately reach for his knife he carried with him.

He knew he couldn’t keep living on like this.

And, as result, he started asking around. He’d start reaching towards the underworld of the Rinsington, knowing that while it was a path of no return, it would at least give him some sense of stability and enough money to live.

However, it was surprisingly hard: those who had connections to anywhere were unwilling to talk to a mere boy about what they knew, and some even told him not to even think about it when he “still had a whole life ahead of him”.

But he had already made up his mind.

And one day it seemed someone had finally figured he had been snooping around, because a man and a woman approached him when he was cleaning the windows of a local bar. They were sharply dressed, with the man wearing a suit and the woman a beautiful and a little revealing, but in no way indecent black dress and a black hat. They were casual enough not to catch too much attention, but still impressive enough to be remembered if you saw them.

“Hey, boy, have a minute or two?” the man in a suit asked.

He nodded and put his cleaning equipment down.

“Have a seat,” the woman said and gestured towards one of the tables in the shade.

In the most casual manner, the man who now sat next to him spoke:

“What is a boy like you looking for from the underworld?”

“Work,” the nameless man replied nonchalantly.

“What a blunt answer! I like it,” the man smiled and clapped his hands softly.

“Now, boy, we have done a bit research on your background…” the woman was talking now, and she pulled papers from her bag she had wrapped around her arm. “... and it seems like someone here is staying illegally.”

She waved the papers around, enough to show these were papers about him, and that they were aware of his past.

He gulped, but tried not to make it visible or audible to the two strange people.

“Don’t look like this, we’re not going to send you back, no, no,” she laughed, but then her expression got more serious as she added: “We’d like to offer you a job.”

“Who are you?” he finally asked from the two strangers.

“We work for an information broker agency. We do other things on the side too to keep business more legal, though. Interested?”

He didn’t really have any choice, did he? He would die of starvation or exhaustion or both if he kept living like this. That, or he’d end up into the kind of job he wouldn’t ever want to get in.

“... why are you contacting me, out of all people? What will you gain if I join?”

“Now now, I don’t think you really have a choice, now do you?” the man smiled, his expression almost disturbingly happy.

“But you have a reason, don’t you. I’d like to know it.”

The woman looked at the man and nodded to him, as if telling him to just answer the question.

“You’re not an ordinary person, aren’t you?”

“It depends on how you want to see it.”

“Are you a human?”

“I am.”

The man smirked.

“I know what they did to you. And we can put that in use. It’s beneficial for the both of us, although admittedly more to us than to you. But surely you already knew that.”

“... I did,” the nameless man admitted.

“So, then, what is your answer? Will you join us?”

The nameless man nodded. “I see no reason to decline your offer.”

“Good, good,” he said and clapped his hands again.

“Then, young man, what is your name? Surely you’re not going to use your old name…”

He stopped.

That’s right, he really needed a new name. A name he could use. A name he would always, consistently use whenever introducing himself.

“... and your name is?” the man asked again, as if encouraging him to reply.

He thought about it for a while, and then memories of the earliest days of the war came to his mind. Those long hours of waiting, that constant humiliating he had to endure because he was the youngest of the group, and all the names he would be called as a mean joke.

“Desiree. It’s Desiree,” he finally replied.

“Desiree? That’s certainly an interesting name.”

“It sure is,” Desiree replied and smiled a little, no more nameless.

“Welcome to the family then, Desiree. We’re looking forward to seeing what kind of work you can do for us.”

[ikiaikainen]

SINFONIA: Monsters

Leon, Jet, Walter, Jonathan and Rick talk about their favourite creepy creatures and end up fooling around just like they always end up doing. (2016) 

“Guys, what is your favourite monster?” Walter asked, directing his question to the whole group of boys sitting outside under the tree.

“History teacher Newman,” Leon replied, obviously joking, but with a serious tone in his voice.

“That’s too scary. Pick something less terrifying,” Walter responded so casually that it almost sounded like he and Leon were not actually joking at all. Rick and Jonathan chuckled at this exchange.

“For real though, mine is a werewolf!” Leon then finally answered and imitated howling. “Why are you asking though?”

“I don’t know, it’s starting to be the time of year when all sort of spooks appear. Creepy creatures sure love their autumn,” Walter responded. “Also, mine are the undead. Like, not the vampire kind of undead, but those others, you know?”

“Those who eat the flesh of the living?” Rick suggested with a weird mix of excitement and disgust in his voice.

“Yeah, those!” Walter grinned enthusiastically. “I think they’re really relatable. I’m also hungry all the time and sometimes walk into things if I don’t pay attention.”

“I think I like werewolves the most, too,” Jet, who had been immersed into some book he had been reading, spoke. “God tier taste,” Leon grinned.

“I think fairies are pretty cool,” Rick then spoke, and everyone turned to look at him in unison.

“Fairies? Are you kidding me?” Walter laughed.

“Rick, fairies aren’t scary,” Leon said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

An arrogant grin appeared on the youngest boy’s lips and he crossed his arms. “That’s what they want you to believe!” he declared proudly. “Don’t you know fairies seem nice and cute, but then trap people into their circles, play around with them and sometimes even switch human children with their own or steal babies. Unlike the undead and werewolves who do things to survive, fairies do awful things to humans simply because they can! They’re honestly the most evil of them all.”

“Sounds a lot like you,” Walter chuckled. “Don’t trap me into a fairy circle, I beg of you…” His voice was exaggeratedly pleading and this made everyone laugh, except Rick, who now puffed his cheeks.

“I’m going to tie forks and spoons into your curly hair so tight that you have to cut yourself bald to get them off!” he declared.

“Oh no….. Anything but that…. I beg mercy!”

They all laughed in unison, and this time even Rick joined them.

“How about you, Jonathan?” Walter then asked, and although he couldn’t see where exactly Jonathan was sitting, he was still facing his general direction out of politeness.

“M-me? Well…” he started and tapped his fingers against each other, trying to think really hard. “I guess I like vampires. They aren’t really scary to me though, but I like the mystery around them.”

“You know, Claude looks like someone who could very well be a vampire, don’t you think?” Leon then spoke and looked at the others.

“Oh yeah, definitely. That evil look full of lust and hunger for human blood…” Walter replied with feigned seriousness in his tone. In truth he had no idea what Claude even looked like outside of what other people had told him.

“H-hey, he is not!” Jonathan yelped.

“... how can we be sure though?” Jet asked ominously. “Have you ever seen Claude and a vampire in the same room, Jonathan?”

“I sure haven’t,” Walter said.

“Me neither,” Leon replied and Rick was nodding too.

“Guys, come on,” Jonathan laughed awkwardly. “Of course he is not a vampire!”

“You’re his room mate, what if he has just threatened you not to spill the beans?” Rick asked with arms crossed.

“Let’s check his neck,” Leon suggested with a mischievous grin, and all of sudden all the boys jumped at Jonathan, grabbing him and holding him still while Leon checked his neck.

“Hey, cut it out!” Jonathan yelled but it wasn’t really convincing as his scream was mixed together with his own laughter.

“I got him now! Leon, check if there is a mark!” Walter yelled while holding the laughing Jonathan by his shoulders.

“It seems there is nothing on the neck…” Leon then concluded, but Jonathan’s hopes of finally being freed from the bundle of other boys was crushed as their leader continued: “But don’t be fooled! There is blood flowing in the entire human body! The vampire might have left its mark somewhere else!”

“Oh no you won’t!” Jonathan yelled and then all the boys ended up wrestling on the ground, teasingly pulling Jonathan’s clothes. However, Jonathan was not easy to beat, and eventually they all just wrestled on the ground with each other.

Jonathan was glad to have these kind of friends.

[ikiaikainen]

SINFONIA: Dare

Oneshot taking place in Claude’s first year at the boarding school. An older student jokingly dares Claude to kiss him, but Claude is not a person to back down even from a joking dare. (2017)

I will be posting this story on RoyalRoadl.com as well

He was a senior student, two years older than Claude was. Not all that tall, slightly tanned, not scrawny but not particularly muscular either - an average 15-year-old, Claude would have said.

“So, what do we have here?” the older boy asked teasingly, raising his small, dark eyebrows in a mocking manner Claude certainly didn’t enjoy looking at.

Although he had deliberately been invited here along with some other first year boys, Claude had soon understood he and the others were here solely to be made fun of. This was nothing but a jest, a way for the older boys to humiliate the younger ones; to show they were the kings of this school because they were older, and as such somehow had the natural right to boss youngers around.

This didn’t sit too well with Claude, who for all his life had gotten used to giving orders to others rather than taking them himself.  

“Are you going to sing to us?” the boy continued and laughed, now directing his attention entirely to Claude instead of the group of juniors as whole. “Or will you give me a kiss? You’re so pretty that you wouldn’t need to sing or dance if you did that.”

He laughed again, but this time Claude interrupted him:

“Just one kiss? Is that all?” he asked, as if he had taken seriously the other boy’s obviously joking suggestion.

“Yeah, just one kiss,” the other replied and laughed again at the junior student’s naivety. Of course he had not been serious - even if he did admit the younger boy looked cute, like a girl, so it probably wouldn’t be all that bad.

“Fine, then,” Claude nodded and took a confident step towards the senior. “Just one kiss.”

He had never kissed anyone before, but Claude feigned confidence as he approached the now silent boy. The older student looked confused, flustered even, but as he realized all the other boys around them now excitedly waited to see how the show would go on, he understood he couldn’t just back down now.

“Hey, you can’t be serious, are you that dense?” he asked as a final last attempt to avoid what was soon to happen. He had taken one shaky step back, away from Claude.

“I’m not particularly fond of singing or dancing in front of others,” the blond responded and placed his slender hands against the upperclassman chest. The older boy flinched, face burning red, and the others around them stayed silent, holding their breaths as they watched the scene unfold. It wasn’t the kiss they were looking forward to, however.

Rather, it was the tension between the two boys that interested them so; a challenge to see which one would be forced to back down. Could a first-year really overpower a third year, or would the junior be reminded of his place in this school’s hierarchy?

Still resting his hand against the boy’s chest, Claude leaned a bit forward. He did it slowly, almost teasingly, as if trying to see if the boy’s nerves would finally crack; the upperclassman’s entire face had gone bright red by now. Claude could feel the boy’s warm, shaky breath against his face as he tiptoed to match the height of the other. He let his eyes rest, remaining now only half open, and he started moving his hands, wrapping them slowly around the upperclassman. Someone watching whistled at this.

Their lips were now almost touching. He could feel the tension in the room, both the one between the other boys and them, and the one between him and the nervous boy in front of him.

Claude moved his face forward,

past the boy’s lips,

next to his right ear and spoke in a soft tone:

“Don’t suggest something you have no guts to go along with.”

The older boy went pale, and the entire audience started screaming and clapping hands, yelling incoherently about how Claude had won and how he had made a fool out of the older boy. What had happened just now had clearly made the older students excited, and the entire room had returned back to its liveliness - except that this time they were all simultaneously focusing on Claude.

“Can’t believe a first grader would do that!”

Claude smiled in humble manner, averting his eyes from the other boys and feigning shyness. However, deep inside Claude was satisfied and proud of what he had done, and was very much enjoying the undivided attention he now received as a result.

Claude took a fast, arrogant glance at the upperclassman he had humiliated, and licked his lips.